


Devoro

by madarch



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Biting, Blood Kink, Complete, M/M, Matchmaker Alune, Mating Cycles/In Heat, One Shot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Aphelios, Rope Bondage, Spit As Lube, Top Sett (League of Legends), Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28749945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madarch/pseuds/madarch
Summary: ‘I could tie you up,’ he suggested. ‘You could not hurt me then.’ It was a tentative suggestion, one Aphelios was certain Sett would immediately veto. He was not the kind of man who enjoyed being tied up. However, tonight Sett was full of surprises, determined to prove Aphelios wrong at every turn; at the suggestion, Sett’s ears perked up, his sharp intake of breath clearly indicating his interest. ‘Would you…like that?’“Yeah,” he growled. “Fuck, yeah, Phel, I do. I want you to tie me up.”
Relationships: Aphelios/Sett (League of Legends)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 164





	Devoro

**Author's Note:**

> hello ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ＼
> 
> This was my first time seriously attempting to write a fic... I had a lot of fun and am happy to have completed it. Even if it totally got away from me bc I don’t know how I got from ‘haha Sett probably goes into heat because he’s a catman’ to 14,000 words of this
> 
> It's unbeta'd, just stared at until I couldn't see words anymore

It was a rare occasion that brought Aphelios to Ionia, and rarer still that he found himself there while not under the effects of the noctum. Since he first felt the caustic scald of the poison corrode his throat and forcibly pry open his spiritual pathways, he had gone hardly a day or two without opening his connection to Alune. It was odd to be lucid, aware of the residual burn in his throat preventing him from uttering more than a sigh, and open to every single sound in his periphery, no matter how minute. Before, he did not enjoy it. He did not enjoy being apart from his sister, his only confidant, the only person in any known realm who understood him. He did not enjoy being painfully aware of how others perceived him, of the corruption that ran deep in every vein of Runeterra, inescapable.  
  
But these things change. Like the Sun crossing the Moon, something entered Aphelios’s orbit that threw his existence off balance. Some _one_ , rather, enough of a behemoth in both size and presence that it should not have been shocking that he knocked Aphelios so profoundly off his perfect, predestined course. 

Aphelios had thought little of it to begin with. Sett was a means to an end. He had information that they needed, and it was Aphelios’s duty to obtain that information, no matter the cost. Alune had encouraged him to pursue Sett. He was a dangerous man, unpredictable and violent, but she could sense that he harboured no ill will towards them. In fact, Sett seemed very enthusiastic in helping the twins. He had been the one to approach them first--or rather, approach Aphelios first. He did not learn of Alune until well after their initial meeting.  
  
That was Aphelios’s first hint that perhaps Sett was not as wicked as local legend would have one believe: how he reacted to Alune. Where the veil is thin enough, and when the noctum is at its zenith in Aphelios’s blood, Alune is capable of projecting a semi-corporeal form into the world. Very rarely did Aphelios allow it to happen in the presence of others; he was greedy, perhaps, wanting to keep Alune all to himself when the Moon blessed him with her presence, but he always claimed it was for their safety first and foremost. Few recognized Aphelios’s face, but Alune was more than a weapon, forged in blood and moonlight. Alune was a scion.

When Sett first met her, Aphelios was primed to attack him should an errant thought even flicker through his mind, but there was no trace of deception in his reaction when she appeared before him. He explained how his ‘ma’ was vastaya, and he had grown up hearing tales about the spiritual veil; he knew that this was possible, but had never witnessed it with his own eyes. Instead of demanding answers from them about the location of the temple, how to access it and Alune, Sett instead began to ask Alune about the spiritual realm, and to learn more about his own connection to magic. 

He was happy to learn about the twins, to hear tales about Aphelios as a child, when he could still speak; he was respectful when they declined to give more information about their mission, their faith, or their people. He never pried, he never made demands. He kept his own secrets, and was respectful of theirs. 

It didn’t take long after that. Though months often stretched between their meetings, Aphelios’s mission leading him all across Runeterra in search of Diana, every time their paths converged, Aphelios learned something new about Sett. He learned about his mother, how he took care of her in her small cottage just outside of Weh’le; he learned of his favourite restaurants, and that he was allergic to corn; he sparred with him, swapping techniques and trading stories of their worst injuries; Sett even learned sign language in order to communicate more easily with him.  
  
Before he knew it, Aphelios had fallen in love. 

Alune, unsurprisingly, had been the first one to pick up on the subtle shifts of his mood around Sett. Such frivolity was not a luxury Aphelios afforded to himself. He was blindly devoted to his cause; he could not afford distractions. There was a possibility that even to this day, two years after first meeting Sett, Aphelios might have been in denial about the depth of his feelings towards him had it not been for the prying of his sister.  
  
“ _Siblings know these things_ ,” she had said with a sigh. _“I am your other half, Phel. Surely by now you are aware that I know you better than you know yourself_ .”  
  
Aphelios huffed, smothering a smile into the rim of his glass as the memory crossed his mind. It was Alune who had suggested that he pay Ionia a visit, under strict instructions to abstain from the noctum for the length of his stay. Aphelios had ardently protested, as was becoming of a devoted soldier, but Alune insisted.  
  
“ _I can tell that he will need you, and soon._ ”  
  
Aphelios had wanted to ask how she could possibly know that, if she had somehow opened a secret connection with Sett just to scheme with him behind his back. His stomach twisted into knots as he asked her why it mattered; Sett was an invaluable source of information for their mission, but was nothing to them outside of that. Aphelios was painfully aware of this, how Sett represented something he wanted but could not have. Why did it matter if he was in trouble? Why would Aphelios need to drop everything, separate himself from his only companion just to seek him out? Yes, Aphelios was fond of him, ached for him, that he could not hide from his sister, but if it wasn’t pertinent to their mission, then...  
  
" _Do you trust me, brother_?”  
  
He had wanted to argue more. He had wanted to press her for details, to insist that he would not leave her for an unknown span of time just to chase after an ephemeral hunch… but the fact was that Aphelios trusted Alune with the Moon and the stars, the very blood that ran through his veins, and if she commanded him to do something, who was he to deny her?  
  
“ _Then leave me, and go._ ”

He had left for Ionia in the cover of night, and arrived after four days of dedicated travel. Today was his first full day in the capital, and that made it five full days since he had last taken the poison. He could not recall the last time he felt so lucid. Everything felt so real beneath his fingers; the colours of the world around him were vivid and brilliant, almost overwhelming. Food and drink were so intense, he found it almost unpleasant to have anything on his tongue. His thoughts were all his own, no one to share them with, and they rattled around in his mind like a caged feral animal.

Frankly, he could not say he was enjoying himself. Even though Alune had insisted that Sett needed him-- _would_ , if he did not already--he had seen hide nor hair of him. Not even a trail of his scent. He had asked around after him, but there were very few who were willing to give the whereabouts of ‘the Boss’, even if they knew. Aphelios might have been a cunning assassin, frightening in his own way, but he was an outsider, and if the jitteriness of the contacts he approached told him anything, Sett was in a particularly bad mood these days. 

Alune was right, of course. She always was.

Aphelios downed the last quarter of his drink in one go. He had developed quite the tolerance; the burn of cheap whisky was nothing compared to the noctum. He had only stopped in this tavern--one he had frequented several times with Sett in the past--to ask the barkeep about Sett’s whereabouts, but decided in the end to have one drink before leaving. The barkeep had given him the most information out of anyone he had approached so far, so he figured he owed him at least that much.  
  
“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but”--famous last words, those--“the Boss has been laying low for the past week. No one has seen him at the pit or any of his usual haunts. People are getting worried he’s planning something big. I’m only telling you this because I recognize you, son; he likes you. Maybe you can talk some sense into that empty head of his.”  
  
Those last words were whispered so quietly, anyone with senses even slightly less keen than Aphelios’s would have missed them. He couldn’t chance anyone overhearing him talk poorly about the Boss, after all; he had eyes and ears everywhere in this city. Aphelios smiled, and gave the barkeep a generous tip.  
  
‘For the drink’, he wrote on a napkin. ‘And the information.’ 

So Sett was hiding. Aphelios wanted to ask Alune if this was her idea of a joke, if it was _her_ who had wanted some privacy, but he did not dare down his emergency supply of noctum just to antagonize her. He would wait at least one more day before accusing her of yanking his chain, and reaching across the veil to pull her into a headlock.

There were many places someone as important and affluent as Sett could hide, but Aphelios was lucky: he knew a few things about Sett that others did not. It was true that Sett ‘liked’ him. He had shared a lot of information with him over the past two years that Aphelios wondered if he should really be privy to, including the location of a safe house that Sett would often take ‘undesirables’ to for ‘friendly questioning’. Aphelios had promised to keep the location a secret. “Use this information for good, mooncake,” Sett had said with a solicitous wink that made his stomach somersault and pulse quicken. Aphelios supposed this--whatever this vague mission of Alune’s was--counted as using it ‘for good’. 

No one paid him any mind as he moved through the streets of Ionia, not even when the rows of brightly lit, colourful lanterns gave way to dingy street lamps and tight rows of crowded, seedy establishments. Aphelios moved with the shadows with the practised ease of a trained assassin, someone who was a weapon before a person. He was confident that not a single soul had followed him to Sett’s safe house, and if anyone had, they would meet the end of his blade before they caught a single glance inside of the building.  
  
Not that the safe house was at all inconspicuous, Aphelios thought, not for the first time, as he skulked up the long cobblestone pathway. He had thought as much the first time Sett accompanied him here as well. Though it was obscured by a swath of overgrown shrubs and decorative grasses, the construction of the home was still grandiose, nothing like the small, shabby domiciles of the slums it was situated in. Most notably, it was Ionian in design; these slums were built around the first Noxian invasion, and the architecture reflected as much.  
  
Aphelios huffed a fond sigh. Even when he needed to be, Sett struggled to be subtle. At least the security of the building would be sufficient against anyone other than Aphelios. A high, invisible electric fence spanned the perimeter, but Sett had taught him the trick to bypassing it. It was a sweet gesture; Aphelios never told him he knew how to disable it even without his guidance. 

Upon approaching the front door, the exquisitely carved stone guardian mounted on the heavy elderwood frame stirred. The large eyes of the [luonn kon](https://leagueoflegends.fandom.com/wiki/Luonn_Kon) rolled into place, vibrating slightly in its stone skull before fixing its gaze on Aphelios. Such a thing was intended to be frightening, to repel any unwanted guests if they somehow bypassed the preliminary security, but Sett had given Aphelios the trick to disarming this ward as well.  
  
‘Do you really trust me this much?’ Aphelios had signed to Sett after he demonstrated the disarming technique. ‘What if I’m working for Noxus?’  
  
“Of course I trust ya, Phel,” Sett said, and Aphelios could only ever dream to have his confidence. “I got the nose for these things. Can sniff out a rat a mile away. You, sweetheart, smell divine.”  
  
Sett had definitely been flirting with him. Alune told him as much. In fact, he was always flirting with him (with everyone, he often reminded himself; Sett flirted with everyone). It was annoying at first, unfamiliar, but soon began to chip away at his armour. It took only 6 months for the dent in his defenses to give way, and now whenever he thought about Sett’s cocksure grin, the way the veins in his hands and arms shifted when he flexed, the adorable way his ears swiveled and twitched in response to stimuli… well, it was something he tried not to think about, lest his heart escape his chest.  
  
It was hard not to, though. It was all Aphelios could really think about right now as he pressed gently against the luonn kon’s eyes with his palm, and tapped its pupils three times with his index and little fingers. If Sett was inside this house, what then? Aphelios would be alone with him. Though he often was, to most outsiders, alone with the Boss, in truth Alune was almost always present. Only once before now had he met Sett with his connection to Alune closed, and Aphelios had panicked so deeply he made up an excuse to leave after only 30 minutes. But this time he was under the guidance of his sister, whether she was presently with him or not; he didn’t have the face to return to her without having at least attempted to complete her mission.  
  
Whatever it was.  
  
After ten seconds of keeping the guardian’s eyes covered, he felt them roll back into their sockets, and the magic binding the door receded. With a crack, the heavy wooden door opened, and before Aphelios had any time to doubt himself, he slipped inside.  
  
His immediate thought was that Sett was not here after all, and that his intuition had led him astray. It was pitch dark inside of the home, not even so much as a candle illuminating the interior. If it had not been for Aphelios’s training, he would not have been able to see a thing. As it stood, he could only barely make out silhouettes, relying on his other senses to traverse the house. He could smell a pungent incense, but the stick had long since been snuffed out. That was odd enough on his own; Sett was not the sort to burn incense. His nose was even keener than Aphelios’s. He didn’t like the smell. 

Despite having abstained from the noctum for five days, Aphelios still did not trust his voice, and so he could not call out into the darkness for his dear informant. He moved deftly throughout the house, looking for any traces of Sett. It was only after he had explored the loft and turned to head back down the stairs that he discovered the first hint of life inside the safe house: in the form of a stealthy attack from the shadows.  
  
Strong arms pulled at him from the dark, first grabbing him at the waist before closing around his neck, holding him tight against a hard, broad chest. Aphelios’s first reaction was a rush of shame; he had trained his entire life to work under the cover of darkness, to be aware of his surroundings at all times, to be alert and prepared to fight at a moment’s notice. How could he allow himself to be caught like this?  
  
But no matter how potent a weapon shame could be, his instincts were stronger, and quickly took over.  
  
Invigorated, Aphelios struggled in the iron grip of his assailant, strong hands digging into the meat of their forearms. He bore down his entire weight onto them, his nails leaving sharp crescent moons in their flesh. He grunted as those arms pulled tighter, and shrugged his shoulders, attempting to lessen the pressure on his neck.  
  
“How did you get in here?” The assailant’s snarl was nearly feral, the proximity of his mouth to Aphelios’s ear causing every hair on his body to stand on end. “Did Reynold send you, that piece of shit? Does he have a fuckin’ death wish? Want me to rip you to shreds and send you back to him in a body bag?”  
  
Aphelios instantly recognized this voice. It was strained, feral, thick with gravel and deeper than he normally knew it, but he would recognize it anywhere. Unfortunately, whether it was the darkness shrouding them or some other reason, the man did not seem to recognize Aphelios in kind.  
  
The chokehold tightened again, and Aphelios’s ears began to ring as his circulation weakened. He might have been strong in his own right, but he was no match for this inhuman strength. Desperate, Aphelios could think of only one tactic that would alert the man behind him of his identity. Still bearing down on those thick arms with his hands, Aphelios steeled himself, and parted his lips, the raspy, laboured sound just barely escaping him.  
  
“ _Sett_.”  
  
Sett released his chokehold almost instantly. Aphelios whirled around, wide-eyed, sputtering as he brought a hand up to his own throat, feeling for external bruises as his esophagus burned from the exertion of using vocal cords marred beyond repair. The two men stared at each other in the dark, dumbfounded, chests heaving as they both struggled to catch their breath. Even with his nebulous vision, Aphelios could tell that something was wrong with Sett.  
  
“Wait… Phel?!” Sett slowly backed away. “Phel, was that your--did you just--what the fuck are you doing here?” He sounded uncharacteristically panicked; Sett was not a man who stumbled over his words. “Wait, wait… I can’t see ya, I need to…”  
  
Sett grunted, as if fighting with himself. He rubbed his forehead with one large hand, swept his hair back, sighed. Muttered something to himself, looked to the sky as if praying, then, as if he had made up his mind, placed his hand on Aphelios’s shoulder and shoved him in the direction of the stairs. “No, I can’t… Aphelios, Phel, mooncake, sunshine -- you, you gotta leave.”  
  
Though only minutes earlier Aphelios had considered abandoning this absurd ‘mission’ altogether and heading back to Targon with nothing to show for it but strong words for his sister, he was also a very stubborn man. Now that he knew Sett was here, and that there was something wrong with him, he was not about to be thrown out of this house without finding out why.  
  
He held his ground resolutely. He shook his head, and now knowing that it was only the two of them in this house, took a talisman from his satchel and crushed it, creating a small ember in the palm of his hand. When he extended it towards Sett, in order to get a better look at him, the behemoth of a man nearly stumbled backwards in his haste to escape the light.  
  
“The fuck, you can do magic now, Phel?” Sett tried to laugh, but it was a weak, unsure sound. He was nervous. Aphelios scoffed, and lifted the ember into the air, where it continued to hang suspended without his guidance. The moment it was out of his palm, its luminosity surged. Sett shielded his face from the light, like the glare hurt his eyes.  
  
‘Not magic,’ Aphelios signed, now that both his hands were free. ‘Not mine.’ Sett laughed again, even more pained.  
  
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Magic or no magic, you can’t be here, Phel. No one can, not until--” When Sett cut himself off, Aphelios stared at him, one eyebrow arched, as he silently bid him to continue. At the look on his face, Sett let out what could only be described as a barely contained whine.  
  
Well. That was new.  
  
‘Why?’ It was a simple question. Sett shook his head, taking another step back as he fidgeted. Aphelios took a staunch step forward and repeated, more deliberately, ‘Why?’  
  
“Phel,” Sett groaned, and in the light of the ember Aphelios could see the muscles in his biceps bulge, like he was barely restraining himself from lashing out. That should have unnerved him, put him on edge, but it only made Aphelios more curious. “Phel, back off, I… you gotta…”  
  
‘Are you sick?’ Aphelios’s stern face was soft. ‘Injured?’ For every step backwards Sett took, Aphelios took one forward.  
  
“No, I…”  
  
Now that he could get a good look at him, Aphelios noted that Sett’s ears were almost flat against his skull. His skin was flushed, his hair damp against his forehead and the nape of his neck. He was clad only in a pair of tight black shorts which, while a sight that made Aphelios’s pulse quicken and mouth go dry, only highlighted the way his body glistened with sweat. By now he was grappling with himself, rubbing his arms like he wanted to escape from his own skin. Any further and Aphelios would have him cornered against the wall, like he was a small house cat instead of an imposing beast.  
  
‘I came for you,’ Aphelios said, his every movement clear and deliberate. Then, ‘I heard you were hiding.’  
  
Ordinarily, news that someone had ratted him out would incense Sett. Aphelios was expected to hear him roar for names, demand to know which squirming little bug was speaking on matters that did not concern them. This time, however, such words rolled off of him like water. After a pregnant pause, Sett could only choke out, “You--you came all the way out here? For me?”  
  
Aphelios stopped approaching. He stared at Sett, noted his odd behaviour, the faint growl in his voice, his dishevelled appearance. He had never seen the man look so vulnerable. Feeling something squeeze in his chest--was it sympathy, or something else?--he averted gaze. Preparing himself to once again exercise muscles that pained him to use, he took in a deep breath, and exhaled quietly, “ _Yes_.”  
  
Aphelios expected a reaction to that, certainly. He had not missed how Sett seemed to flounder upon hearing him speak his name. He had thought, perhaps, that hearing his voice once more would encourage Sett to speak on his troubles, explain what had him so addled. What he did not expect was for the shock on Sett’s handsome face to transcend immediately into something feral, and for him to push off against the wall and tackle him onto the floor.  
  
For the second time tonight he was caught off guard, caged in on all sides by long, muscled limbs, tense with barely restrained power. This close, Aphelios could smell the sweat on him, could see the way his pupils engulfed those golden eyes. Aphelios’s breath hitched, unable to look away from Sett’s piercing gaze. He felt paralyzed by it.  
  
“Aphelios,” Sett said his name in a snarl. Aphelios’s heart almost stopped; Sett so rarely spoke his full name. When he opened his mouth, Aphelios zeroed in on his fangs, more pronounced than he had ever seen them before. “You are…” Sett brought his mouth inches from Aphelios’s neck, hot breath puffing against his skin. A full-body shudder wracked Aphelios’s body, accompanied by a low, unexpected whimper.  
  
He had to put a stop to this. Sett was not in his right mind. Something was wrong.  
  
Trembling slightly, Aphelios cupped Sett’s cheek with one hand. He stroked his skin softly, his stubble a pleasant prickle against his palm. Slowly, Sett began to calm. Aphelios watched as his eyes began to cloud over, his snarl fading. He could feel the way his jaws relaxed, and once he brought his other hand to rest on his face, moving in tandem, the rest of his taut muscles followed suit. After a minute of this, Sett did something Aphelios could never have anticipated:  
  
He began to purr.  
  
It started low, barely audible. It could have been anything, a subtle rumble cutting through the resonance of their ragged breathing. It mounted slowly, louder and louder, until Aphelios could hear nothing else, felt it reverberate through Sett’s impressive chest against his skin. Awestruck, he dropped his hands from Sett’s face, staring at him in disbelief.  
  
“Phel,” Sett muttered, all bravado rushing out of his body as he almost collapsed on top of Aphelios. “Phel, you smell so good... I’m so happy you’re here, doll, you have no idea... I…”  
  
Sett nuzzled his face into the crook of Aphelios’s neck, stubble rough against his skin, and continued to rumble like a giant house cat. Aphelios was at a loss. Sett was heavy, even without bearing down his entire weight on top of him. He held his hands out lamely at his sides, fingers twitching as he tried to wrap his mind around the situation. He needed to talk to Sett, to understand what was causing this strange behaviour, but he couldn’t, not like this.  
  
Aphelios shut his eyes and sighed. After a moment’s consideration, he tapped Sett’s arm thrice with two fingers. Even in this state, Sett seemed to recall that this meant to look at him, so he could communicate. In a flash his pupils contracted, rationality wresting control back from instinct. He jumped back as if burned, his ears drooping. Even in this bizarre situation, Aphelios couldn’t help but find such expressiveness cute.  
  
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Phel!” Sett’s chest heaved as he tried to calm himself. “Fuck, this was why I didn’t want you here, I…”  
  
First, Aphelios sat up, ignoring the way all of his blood immediately rushed back into his head. He then reached out to place a reassuring hand on Sett’s arm; though he flinched at the contact, he did not pull away. Once he was sure he was looking at him, Aphelios asked, ‘Talk?’ After a beat, Sett nodded weakly, looking almost sheepish as he slumped back against the wall. Aphelios had never seen him so subdued.  
  
He shuffled over to the wall, sitting gingerly next to Sett, who instantly put an extra few inches between them. Aphelios tried not to let it bother him. ‘Explain,’ he said.  
  
“Shit, well…” Sett trailed off, a little furrow forming between his brows as he thought over how to explain himself. “You’re a moon boy, right? You know about the moon, and how it affects all sorts of shit, you know… even people, right?” Aphelios nodded sagely. If there was anything in this world he knew, it was the Moon.  
  
“Well, ya see, it affects us, too--vastaya, I mean.” Sett so rarely discussed being vastaya, Aphelios was a little shocked to hear him bring it up now. “The lunar cycles also affect…ah, shit, how do I put this...affect our ‘cycles’, too. You get it?”  
  
Aphelios had an idea. He flushed, but wanted to hear Sett confirm his suspicions. He gestured for him to continue.  
  
“Phel, fuck’s sake, you’re really gonna make me say it?”

Aphelios nodded. ‘Continue.’

Sett groaned loudly, but to his credit, he pressed on. “Our _mating cycle_ , Phel. It’s a mating cycle. Y’know, when beasts go wild and want to fuck everything they see. Comes after every fourth full moon--for me, anyway. I know for my ma, before she had me, it was different, and she said it depends on the vastaya, too, but… y’know what I mean, right? I don’t gotta say more than this?”  
  
Sett most certainly did not need to say more than that. Aphelios had stopped listening as soon as Sett had first uttered the words ‘mating cycle’.  
  
It certainly made sense. Aphelios was well aware of Sett’s bestial qualities. He was aware of them in ways he was loathe to speak of, fangs and claws appearing in his darkest, most private fantasies. In fact, more than once had the thought of Sett going feral, ravaging him without restraint entered his mind. To learn that his fantasy had basis in reality made him slightly woozy.  
  
Aphelios swallowed thickly. ‘So then, you are here because…’  
  
“Can’t trust myself around people right now,” Sett grumbled, inclining his head as he wiped sweat away from his hairline. Aphelios tried not to stare at the ripple of his muscles as he did so. “I locked myself in here so I wouldn’t go around fuckin’ everything that moves, or… shit, how’d you even get in here?! I know you’re a highly trained assassin and all, but I thought the security here was tighter than that!”  
  
Aphelios couldn’t hide his smile. How quickly Sett forgot these things. ‘You taught me, remember?’ Realization slowly crested on Sett’s features. He laughed weakly and dragged a beleaguered palm over his face.  
  
“Came to bite me in the ass, didn’t it?” Sett tilted his head back against the wall. “Ah, shit.”  
  
What Aphelios still did not understand was why Sett was hiding at all. It made sense that experiencing a rut would be uncomfortable--stressful--but Sett was not normally the sort to hide himself away from the world. In fact, Sett seemed to revel in imposing himself on others. He liked to flex his power, remind the people in his city that he reigned over them from the shadows, that he could ruin their lives in an instant should he so desire.  
  
‘Do you always hide like this?’ Aphelios asked. ‘When you are…’ He paused. He really did not have a sign for ‘in heat’. Perhaps he would need to make one up.  
  
Sett was unusually silent for a moment, before replying in a measured tone, “No. Just this time.” 

Aphelios was surprised to hear this. Not that Sett normally sought companions during his rut; Aphelios would have been surprised to hear that he didn’t. Sett was an attractive, important man, with an unquenchable thirst for all fine things in life; it only made sense that he would hunt for prey when his body was rampaging with virility. What shocked Aphelios was to hear that _this time_ he did not. This time he hid himself away, suffering in solitude.  
  
What changed? 

The two were silent for a while before Aphelios broached the subject. ‘Why?’ Sett avoided his gaze for a few moments, and when he did finally look at him, the vulnerability in his eyes was a shot to the heart. Why did he look so sad?  
  
“Doesn’t matter,” Sett muttered, looking away once more. Those two words were like venom. Of course it mattered; Aphelios wanted to know why. What was keeping Sett from taking a partner? Any partner? Did he not want just _any_ partner?  
  
‘Don’t you need release?’ 

“What? _Release?_ ” Sett balked at his choice of words. “Well, yeah, of course. Usually just one good fuck will do ya.”

Aphelios swallowed. He wanted to be that ‘one good fuck’. He wanted it so badly.

‘And if you don’t? Doesn’t it hurt?’

Sett sighed, clearly getting agitated. “It sure ain’t _comfortable_ , mooncake,” he said. “But I can just distract myself. I’ve been workin’ out.” He laughed, sighed again. “It’s not been _workin’ out_ so well, ha ha.”

A distraction, huh?  
  
Aphelios’s pulse picked up as his head began to swim with errant thoughts. Alune had sent him here under the pretense of Sett needing his help, ‘and soon’. While Aphelios had anticipated something else, something more in his wheelhouse like being in need of an assassin or spy, suffering due to an unmet biological need surely counted as requiring help. 

He could help him with this, couldn’t he? Surely he could take this, this one selfish reprieve? Just for one evening? It was to help Sett. This was only following her orders. 

‘I could help,’ Aphelios said, his hands moving almost of their own volition. ‘I could be your…’ It was his turn to stumble now. He stumbled over the movements for the word ‘mate’, before deciding not to use that word after all. ‘Outlet.’  
  
“Phel.” That growl was back in Sett’s voice, lower this time. Threatening. “You don’t understand what you’re saying.”  
  
‘Don’t insult me.’  
  
Sett looked aghast that Aphelios would even suggest that he would ever insult him. “Aphelios, sweetheart, I would never--”  
  
Aphelios shook his head, holding up his hand to stop Sett from continuing. He was not finished. Sett’s mouth snapped shut without further protest. 

‘You need a distraction. I don’t mind being your distraction.’ Seconds ticked by where neither of them made a move to say anything. Aphelios licked his lips. ‘I would like to be your distraction.’  
  
A low rumble started in Sett’s chest again, but this time it was less of a purr, and more of a growl. He sat up, looking more like his usual imposing self as he towered over Aphelios. “Are you saying you want me to fuck you, Aphelios?”  
  
Aphelios could not repress the full-body shudder those words elicited from him. His cock thickened in his pants, his blood thrumming in his ears. He swallowed thickly, and parted his lips one more time.  
  
“ _Yes_.”  
  
“Oh, fuck, Phel,” Sett groaned, leaning back against the wall and covering his face with his hands. “You don’t know what you do to me.”  
  
Aphelios’s eyes traversed the span of Sett’s sculpted body, landing greedily on the thick outline of his cock in his shorts. He had some idea.  
  
Sett pulled his hands away from his face, fixing Aphelios with a tortured stare. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, so solemn in his sincerity that it made Aphelios’s heart hurt.  
  
‘You won’t hurt me,’ he said. He flexed his arm and patted his bicep gently. ‘I’m sturdy.’ Sett laughed at Aphelios’s attempt at humour, but was not convinced.  
  
“I know, Phel, I know you’re no delicate flower,” he sighed. “But this ain’t your regular sex. We’re literally beasts in heat -- no restraint. And besides, what about your sister?” Sett brought up his last point in haste, like he only just now recalled that with Aphelios, there was likely Alune; there was almost never one without the other. Aphelios had to swallow laughter at the sheer panic in Sett’s eyes as it dawned on him.  
  
‘She is not here,’ he said. When Sett looked at him in confusion, he elaborated, ‘No poison.’  
  
“No shit?” Sett ran a hand through his damp hair. Though he blew out an obvious sigh of relief, he also asked, “Why? You two are a package deal, ain’tcha?”  
  
Aphelios mulled it over. He did not think it was appropriate to tell Sett that his sister had specifically told him to seek out Sett without her present, that she had prophesied he would need him by his side.  
  
It turned out she was right, in the end. Of course she was. Sett did need him, just not in the way Aphelios ever would have anticipated.  
  
‘A mission,’ he settled on in the end. ‘Needed to be lucid.’ It was not a lie.  
  
Thankfully Sett seemed receptive to that answer. “Well, that explains why you can talk right now, huh? Haven’t taken the poison for a while?” 

Aphelios nodded. He chose not to elaborate that it still pained him greatly to do so; he was merely opting to do so despite the pain.

“Well, I guess it’s good that you’re here all by your lonesome, but…” Aphelios could still sense Sett’s trepidation. It was quite touching, frankly, how afraid he seemed to be of hurting him, but Aphelios was not afraid of pain. Aphelios’s very foundation was shaped by pain. Nothing that Sett could do to him now could hold a candle to the suffering his faith had inflicted upon him. 

And he wanted this. He wanted Sett. Right now, he wanted him more than anything. 

‘I could tie you up,’ he suggested. ‘You could not hurt me then.’ It was a tentative suggestion, one Aphelios was certain Sett would immediately veto. He was not the kind of man who enjoyed being tied up. However, tonight Sett was full of surprises, determined to prove Aphelios wrong at every turn; at the suggestion, Sett’s ears perked up, his sharp intake of breath clearly indicating his interest. ‘Would you…like that?’  
  
Aphelios could tell that Sett was grappling with himself, wanting to deny Aphelios again, but Sett struggled to act rationally at the best of times. At the mercy of his biology, he had no chance to win a battle against desire.  
  
“Yeah,” he growled. “Fuck, yeah, Phel, I do. I want you to tie me up.”  
  
Aphelios’s tongue suddenly felt three sizes too big in his mouth. Never had he imagined he would hear those words come out of Sett’s mouth; even in his fantasies, they had never occurred to him. It was always Sett pinning him down on a hard tavern floor, rutting into him for all to see; Sett fucking him against a wall, until his legs gave out from underneath him; Sett slamming him against a tree and fucking his thighs with reckless abandon. The thrill that rocked his core at the image of tying Sett up and having him at his mercy made Aphelios wonder why he had never thought of it before. 

‘Where would you like me to tie you up?’ he asked. Aphelios was always direct. The anticipation swirling in his belly would not allow for any dallying. He was afraid that if he hesitated, Sett would change his mind, and his long lusted after opportunity would be gone.  
  
“You know, I’ve always liked how you don’t beat around the bush,” Sett said fondly. Luckily, it didn’t seem like he wanted to wait, either. He leapt to his feet, seemingly invigorated by the proposal. “Let’s see…” His gaze landed on the bed. “Not the bed. Trust me on that one.” Aphelios did not ask questions. “What about...aha!”  
  
Sett bounded over to a large wooden chair sat atop an animal skin rug, artfully embellished with brass and a plush brocade seat. Its back was tall and arcing, big enough to comfortably seat Sett in all his seven-foot glory. It was truly a seat fit for a king. He patted its back with an enthusiastic grin.  
  
“Solid Navori wood,” he said. “This thing can handle me no problem.”  
  
Aphelios approached Sett and the chair, inspecting it with his own careful eye. It did seem like it would suit their purposes very well. He nodded his approval, then slipped his satchel over his head, draping it over a nearby divan. Sett seemed to vibrate with anticipation as he watched Aphelios’s every move.  
  
‘May I turn on a light?’ Aphelios asked. ‘The flare will not last much longer.’ Sett looked a bit hesitant; Aphelios could ascertain why. ‘I have already seen you,’ he reminded him. He already knew what Sett looked like, flush with want and damp with sweat, with wild black eyes and fangs itching to possess. Sett made a noncommittal noise, gesturing towards a small lantern perched atop a wooden desk beneath a curtained window.  
  
“Light that one,” he said. “Not too bright. Hurts my eyes right now.” 

Aphelios lit the ornate metal lantern just as the light from the talisman flickered and extinguished itself, vanishing without a trace. The lantern cast a much softer light; definitely easier on the eyes. Some of Sett’s discomfort seemed to ebb just from the change in lighting. It made sense that everything about him was quite sensitive right now, and Aphelios was happy to ease as much of Sett’s discomfort as he could. 

“Anything else?” Sett asked, shifting from foot to foot, exuding impatience. “Ah, shit, I guess we need rope or somethin’ if we’re gonna do this, huh? Hold on, I know I’ve got somethin’ lying around here somewhere…”  
  
Aphelios held out his hand to stop Sett, shaking his head. Sett looked puzzled, but quietly watched as Aphelios reached into his satchel, and pulled out a length of corded rope, pale blue in colour; it was Lunari spirit rope, imbued with the power of the Moon, stronger than your standard rope and particularly effective in restraining the Solari. Sett burst out into laughter as he watched him drape it over the back of the chair.  
  
“What, you just carry that around with you at all times? Just in case you need to tie someone up?”  
  
Aphelios stared at him pointedly. ‘Yes.’  
  
Sett stopped laughing immediately when he realized Aphelios was serious.  
  
“Remind me not to get on your bad side, mooncake,” he said. Aphelios smiled. _You could never_ , he thought.  
  
With every length of pale blue rope that Aphelios pulled from his satchel and placed delicately on the chair, Sett’s eyes widened, until they were practically popping out of his skull. Aphelios couldn’t help but laugh softly through his nose. Was it truly so shocking? Ropes had a multitude of uses. Barring their use as a tool of restraint, Aphelios did a lot of traveling, often through rough terrain, and without encountering civilization for days at a time; they had come in handy more than once. 

Once he had taken out a total of five lengths of rope, Aphelios gestured towards the chair and commanded, ‘Sit. Legs apart and arms out.’ Sett seemed a little too eager to comply, more invigorated than Aphelios had seen him all evening. He sat down in the chair, posture impeccable, his legs spread and arms aligned perfectly with the arm rests.  
  
“Usually I’m the one doin’ this to someone else,” he said, unable to keep the edge of excitement out of his voice. “Make sure you tie ‘em real tight, Phel. Don’t let me escape.” Even now, Sett couldn’t help but boast, flexing his biceps with a grin,“I’m real strong, you know.”  
  
Aphelios was so, so aware. He was thankful Sett could not see his face, burning bright red, as he wrapped the first length of rope across Sett’s chest from behind, careful to make it secure but not so tight that it would bite into Sett’s skin. Sett began to hum as Aphelios moved onto his arms, tying his wrists and forearms to the armrests. Once he was finished, Sett tested the knots, all the muscles in his arms and chest bulging as he struggled. Aphelios was so captivated by the sight that he almost forgot to begin tying down Sett’s legs.  
  
“Damn, you’re good at this,” Sett whistled as Aphelios snapped out of it and began to tie his ankles to the legs of the chair. “You do this a lot, Phel?” Aphelios shook his head.  
  
‘Only occasionally. Mostly practice. Just in case.’ Aphelios was deadly; he rarely needed to tie up a living person. Corpses were much easier -- they did not struggle.  
  
“Well, your ‘practice’ sure came in handy tonight. Don’t think I’ll be able to get out of these even if I completely lose it.”  
  
Aphelios completed the knot on his second leg, pulling it taut, then gazed up at Sett from his knees. ‘Are you going to lose it?’  
  
Sett puffed out a breath of air. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Aphelios; Aphelios wondered what was running through his mind as he stared at him. “Shit. Maybe. But that’s why you’re tying me up, right?”  
  
Aphelios nodded. Right. Tied up like this, even if Sett lost his senses, Aphelios would still be in control. And even if, by some freak of nature, Sett managed to break out of his bindings in the throes of passion, Aphelios could not say he was afraid of the consequences.  
  
Content with his work, Aphelios got to his feet, and started to peel off his gloves. Though he looked collected on the outside, inside he was burning, ablaze with desire. Here Sett was, the man he was ardently in love with, tied up, vulnerable and willing before him; Aphelios didn’t want to -- _couldn’t_ \-- waste anymore time. 

Out of his periphery he could spot Sett’s ears perking up at the sight of him taking off his gloves. The slyest of smiles graced his lips as he tossed them to the side, and immediately got to work on the rest of his clothes.

“You giving me a show, mooncake?” 

Aphelios lifted his head to look at Sett, who gazed at him with such intensity that it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He hummed, shrugging off his outer robe with fluid grace, allowing it to pool around his ankles. His vambraces were next, falling to the floor with a clatter; when he moved to his scarf, he unraveled it slowly, allowing it to slither off his shoulders and flutter onto the ground. Next were his boots, which took a bit more effort, but despite their complexity he was able to remove them in such a way that drew attention to his calves and the high, delicate arches of his feet.

Sett remained somewhat silent as he watched Aphelios sensually disrobe, until his torso was bare, and all that remained were the skintight trousers that hugged every curve of his thighs and ass. When Aphelios bared his back to him, hooking his thumbs into the waist of his pants, Sett could stay silent no longer. 

“Fuck, Phel,” Sett growled; he could hear him straining against the ropes. “Wish I could tear those fucking pants off you…you don’t know how long I’ve wanted...” Aphelios shuddered, and he had never been so glad to have his back turned to someone before. He could not possibly have hidden the look of wanton desire that enveloped his features upon hearing those words.  
  
 _I want you to_ , he thought as he slowly pulled down his pants, deliberately allowing them to catch on the swell of his ass. _I have always wanted you to._ As he dragged them over his thighs, bending over just so to give Sett a tease of what was to come, he could hear the scrape of the chair against the hardwood floor. He peered over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.  
  
Sett’s knuckles were white as he strained against the rope, which bit into his skin despite Aphelios’s best efforts. His chest heaved with restraint, and the outline of his cock was much more prominent than it had been mere seconds ago. 

‘Already?’ Aphelios teased, dropping his seductive act to pull the last inches of fabric off of his legs, leaving them crumpled on the floor with the rest of his garments.  
  
“You’re so sexy,” Sett groaned, tilting his head back against the head rest. “I wanna touch you so fucking bad, Phel.” Aphelios’s face burned, but he managed to control his impassive expression. 

‘You agreed to this,’ he chided him. ‘No complaining.’ Now completely nude, his tawny skin aglow in the warm light of the lantern, he turned to face Sett, baring himself in his entirety to the man he had lusted after in secret for so long.  
  
Just the look on Sett’s face as he drank him in was enough to make Aphelios blush. It was almost reverent. “Shit, look at you,” he said. “You been hiding this from me all this time?” 

Aphelios wanted to keep staring at Sett’s face, wanted to watch his black pupils finally engulf the last slivers of gold as he took in every last detail of his form, but he could not pull his eyes away from the length of his cock. He watched it twitch and swell, and felt his mouth water at the small damp patch that bloomed below its crown. Knowing that it was him who was having this effect on Sett was a type of power he had never tasted before. 

“Hey, my eyes are up here, sweetheart,” Sett teased, disrupting Aphelios’s power fantasy. When Aphelios hesitated, for once unable to conceal his embarrassment, he continued, “You can do more than just look at it, you know.” 

‘I want to taste it.’  
  
Direct as always. Aphelios was consumed by the desire to have Sett in his mouth. 

Sett blew a puff of air, his eyes wide. “Well,” he said, almost speechless. “By all fucking means, go ahead.”  
  
Aphelios smiled. He sank to his knees before Sett, taking a moment to appreciate his adonic body from this angle. His eyes traversed his sculpted chest, admiring the dark hair that he had always wanted to run his fingers through, following it down his stomach until it disappeared below the hem of his shorts. Those needed to go, he thought. Now.  
  
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled them down without preamble, watching with delight as Sett’s thick cock sprung free and slapped onto his stomach with an audible smack. Aphelios felt almost giddy to finally have his eyes on the real thing in all its glory; it was even bigger than he had imagined, flushed red at the tip, so hard it was already leaking.  
  
“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Sett crooned from above him, pulling Aphelios from his trance. He cleared his throat, so aroused he was dizzy with it.  
  
‘Yes,’ he signed. ‘I love it.’  
  
Sett groaned, his head hitting the back of the chair as his cock throbbed again in response to his honesty. Aphelios was glad to see that he was having some effect on Sett like Sett had on him. Laughing softly through his nose, Aphelios ran his hands up Sett’s thick, sculpted thighs, reveling in how his muscles jumped beneath his fingers at the contact. Sett moaned lowly, a rumble through his core, and tried to spread his legs further, his thighs straining.  
  
Though this was not his first time, it had certainly been some time since Aphelios had last experienced a flesh and blood cock, and he hesitated slightly because of it. It was hard to find both time and opportunity to satisfy his primal needs, not to mention summon the desire. It was easiest to take matters into his own hand during his brief reprieves from the noctum, rather than hunt down a prospective partner that, after falling for Sett, would almost assuredly disappoint him. 

There was also the issue of Sett’s size; Aphelios had fantasized, of course, that Sett would be thick as his wrist, but when actually faced with a cock that massive, he was frankly a little intimidated. 

But Aphelios was nothing if not tenacious. He wanted to take Sett in his mouth, and had for nearly two years; he wasn’t going to back down now. 

Grasping the base of Sett’s cock without further delay, Aphelios parted his lips with a sigh and took the crown into his mouth. Sett hissed, his entire body jerking forward, pulling the ropes even tighter.  
  
“ _Fuck,_ sweetheart,” he moaned. “Your mouth is so hot.”  
  
Aphelios’s entire body was hot. It was scalding. Emboldened by Sett’s honest reaction, he took more of him into his mouth, savouring the weight of it on his tongue, the taste; strong, but far from unpleasant. He ran his free hand along Sett’s thigh, up and down, squeezing the muscle as it strained beneath him. 

Sett was so responsive, it was intoxicating. When he licked along the length of his cock, every muscle in his body twitched; when took his heavy balls into his palm, he growled his name; when he worked the head of his cock with his eager, greedy mouth, his hand deftly covering what he could not fit, he moaned so deeply Aphelios could feel the vibrations of it on his tongue. 

But it wasn’t enough. By the time an ache began to settle into Aphelios’s jaw, Sett was still too coherent for his liking, still purring his name and showering him in a litany of filthy praise; the first time he had mentioned losing it, going feral, Aphelios became set in his determination to drive him there. 

Aphelios did have one trick up his sleeve, the one errant positive to his abuse of the noctum: the poison had long since eaten away at his gag reflex. With a knowing smile, Aphelios made deliberate eye contact with Sett. Just as he opened his mouth, no doubt to taunt him, Aphelios took in one deep breath before taking his cock all the way to the root. 

Sett convulsed, his no doubt obscene words dying on his tongue. His cock throbbed deep in Aphelios’s throat, the chair scraping against the floor as every muscle in his body went rigid. He cursed, something completely unintelligible but burning in its intensity as Aphelios swallowed around him, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.  
  
He held Sett there, maintaining eye contact the entire time, for a good ten seconds before his need for air won over his desire to feel Sett throb in his throat. He gulped in air, coughing as he wiped at his swollen, spit-stained mouth. When he next glanced at Sett, he was looking positively debauched, struck dumb; his panted with his mouth hanging open, staring at Aphelios like he was nothing more than a piece of meat to be devoured. 

Aphelios adored it. This was what he wanted. He wanted to see just how much farther he could push him before he snapped entirely. 

He sighed, dragging his tongue slowly over his lower lip. He heard Sett take a sharp breath. ‘You’re so hard,’ he marveled, before ghosting his fingers over the underside of Sett’s flushed cock. Sett nearly thrashed in his seat at the feather light touch, simultaneously too much and not enough. ‘I think you could break me.’ 

“Fuck!” he snarled, his hips snapping up of their own accord. “I wanna fuck you so bad, Phel, want to fucking break you in half, you have no idea--” 

Aphelios mounted Sett’s lap like one might a horse’s saddle, and captured his mouth in a searing kiss. Sett groaned, effectively silenced, as he fought against his restraints. Fangs nipped at Aphelios’s bottom lip, breaking skin, and soon they could taste iron, blood passed from teeth to tongue. Aphelios surged forward, fingers digging into the meat of Sett’s shoulders as he rubbed his cock against his taut stomach. Shuddering, Aphelios mouthed against Sett’s bruised lips, ‘ _I_ _know_.’ 

_I know how badly you want to fuck me_ , he thought, _because I want you to fuck me that badly, too._

Parting from Sett, Aphelios stared down at him with dark eyes, swiping his tongue across the wound on his bottom lip. He quickly signed the word ‘open’, before pressing three fingers against his lips. Sett obediently parted his lips and took those fingers into his mouth, wetting them without further instruction. Aphelios sighed, both the sight and sensation drawing a thick dribble of precome from his cock. 

“ _Don’t bite_ ,” he whispered hoarsely, which was intended to entice Sett, but Aphelios underestimated just what effect his voice had on him. Heat engulfed Sett’s eyes, a primal growl roaring from his chest as his lips curled in a snarl. His hips snapped, his cock brushing against the cleft of Aphelios’s ass as his fangs caught on his fingers, blood blossoming in their wake.

Aphelios inhaled sharply, flinching at the sharp nip. Sett did not allow him to pull out his fingers, only drawing them further into his mouth. His lips parted, his large tongue laving those slender digits, and Aphelios couldn’t tear his eyes away. It must have been a full 30 seconds before Sett allowed him to withdraw his hand, and even then it was with reluctance.  
  
 _“Good boy_ ,” Aphelios murmured. This time he was well aware of what he was doing, what he was inciting. A wicked smile crossed his lips as Sett groaned, his massive cock leaking into his crease. This was worth every second of pain speaking caused him. Maintaining careful eye contact, Aphelios took spit-slick fingers and reached between his legs, nudging aside the hot length of Sett’s cock. Sett hissed at even the slightest touch, desperate for contact. Aphelios mouthed ‘patience’ as he breached his hole, one careful finger quickly becoming two. Perhaps due to his heat, Sett’s saliva was particularly viscous, coating Aphelios’s insides as he fingered himself.  
  
“Phel,” Sett groaned, rutting against the meat of Aphelios’s ass, “Phel, please, please--”  
  
Aphelios shushed him, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he pushed in a third slick finger. He was no stranger to fucking himself like this, on the cold nights he was alone with only his own dark thoughts for company, consumed by the oppressive loneliness of his burden, imagining he was being taken apart not by his own hand but by a thick, hard cock, held back against a hard chest by impossibly strong arms as he whispered into his ear, called his name, told him he loved him, rocking into him until Aphelios was spilling into his hand, a name fizzling out on his lips as they parted in a silent scream--

\--but it was different now, when the owner of the same chest in his dreams was right beneath his hands, hot and tangible and heaving with such arousal that he was close to bursting. Knowing that the cock he had fantasized about so many times was real and aching to be inside of him made Aphelios so sensitive he needed to stop fucking himself on his fingers before he came without ever knowing what it felt like to have it split him open.

He could wait no longer. Spitting once into his palm, Aphelios grabbed Sett’s cock, earning himself a pitiful moan as he pressed it against his hole. He didn’t care if it hurt. Sett was still slick from Aphelios’s mouth and his own copious precome; it would have to be enough. 

“Phel--” Sett started calling Aphelios’s name the moment he sank down on his cock, the first few inches breaching him easily. Their mouths fell open in unison; a wordless shout formed on Aphelios’s lips, while a snarl so savage it sounded inhuman ripped from Sett’s chest. Aphelios’s thighs trembled, overcome with the searing pressure. It was so much. He had only taken maybe three inches of him and already felt so full.  
  
“Fuck!” The sound of the chair scraping against the floor caused Aphelios’s eyes to fly open again. Sett was heaving beneath him, mouth open and salivating, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles were white, and his claws left grooves in the wood. The sight of Sett’s fangs dripping with need made Aphelios feel woozy. 

He swallowed thickly, keeping a steady focus on Sett as he slowly sank lower onto his cock. He wanted to see every minute change in his tortured expression as he swallowed him. It burned, splitting him open; tears pricked at the corners of his eyes but his determination never waned, his desire never withered. One hand gripped Sett’s muscular thigh tightly, using him as leverage, while the other he laid flat on his own stomach, feeling the way his muscles shifted with each inch of cock he took. 

By the time he had Sett in his entirety nestled deep inside his ass, Aphelios could swear he could feel the head of his cock press insistently against his palm. 

Sett had grown incoherent by now. His eyes were unfocused, pupils blown, and at some point he had bitten through his own bottom lip; blood spilled down his chin, crawling in thin rivulets down his neck and into the hair on his chest. Aphelios’s cock twitched at the sight. He was truly feral; Aphelios could only imagine what he would be doing to him had he not tied him up like this. 

“ _Sett_ ,” Aphelios whispered his name, rolling his hips gently. Just this slight movement sent sparks flying behind his eyes. This seemed to pull Sett from his trance; his eyes snapped into focus once more, his claws digging deeper into the wooden armrests. He licked his lips, seemingly unbothered by the taste of his own blood.  
  
“Move,” Sett growled. Aphelios arched an eyebrow, stilling his movements entirely. He was enjoying the power he currently held over Sett; he wanted to come so badly, to fuck up into him with reckless abandon, but instead he was at Aphelios’s mercy. 

As good as it felt to have Sett filling him so completely, stretching his rim taut and painful, it felt even better to know that he was losing himself because of him. 

Instead of fucking himself on his cock, Aphelios flexed his core, squeezing him from the inside. A little sigh escaped his lips; even this felt good for him. Sett, however, snarled, snapping his jaws like a wild animal.

“Move!” He rolled his hips in a desperate attempt to fuck up into Aphelios, but Aphelios was a strong man himself; he was a solid, inflexible weight on top of him. Whenever Sett thrust his hips, Aphelios bore down on him, digging his heels stubbornly into the rug beneath his feet. 

Sett shouted, incensed. Though Aphelios was certain he had all the control in this situation, he did not fully take into account what rut could do to a creature, just how mad it could make them. Just as he was parting his lips to taunt the man beneath him, Sett’s dark eyes flashed, and he lunged for Aphelio’s neck, sinking his fangs into his flesh without restraint. 

Aphelios screamed. 

The searing pain in his throat from the cry barely even registered as Sett’s fangs pierced deeper, drawing blood. “Let me fuck you,” he snarled into his skin. “Put a fucking baby in you.” Aphelios could not help it; he whimpered, going limp against the bite, rutting against Sett’s stomach. “Make you mine.” This must have been what it felt like to be a female cat, made docile with a single bite to the back of the neck. Sett growled possessively, refusing to release his jaws, and for a while, Aphelios let him. He let his fangs sink deeper and deeper into his neck until he could feel his lips against his skin, let his blood fill Sett’s mouth and cascade down his shoulders, let him lap it up like cream.

Let Sett make him his. 

However, soon the initial wave of endorphins began to fade, leaving behind only pain, and Aphelios pushed at Sett’s shoulders, attempting to dislodge his fangs from his neck. When Sett did not budge, merely growling louder like a cat refusing to part with its prey, Aphelios was forced to grab his face with trembling hands, and manually pry open his jaws. 

With a pop, Aphelios released Sett’s fangs from his neck; fresh blood immediately began to spill from the wound. Aphelios winced, his neck throbbing in tandem with his hammering pulse. Both his hands and Sett’s mouth were stained with blood, the two of them panting raggedly as they stared at each other. 

Seconds of stunned silence ticked by before Aphelios surged forward, grasping both sides of Sett’s face as he crushed their lips together. Never before had he so understood the term ‘bloodlust’, driven mad by the metallic tang of his blood in Sett’s mouth, the intense throb of the bite on his neck. Sett groaned into the kiss, his hips slamming up into Aphelios, forcing a wounded gasp from his lungs. 

After the scream tore through his throat, Aphelios was once again rendered unable to speak. He could only whimper as Sett fucked him, clumsy and brutal, his own cock rubbing against Sett’s stomach with every thrust. He had lost control of the situation so quickly, but not a single part of him cared. This was what he had wanted, for Sett to lose control, to devour him.

Without parting from Sett’s mouth, he braced one hand against the back of the chair, which creaked menacingly beneath them, and the other against his thigh. This gave him the leverage to meet Sett’s hips, to match the punishing pace of his thrusts. 

Every time Sett pushed inside of him, sparks flew behind Aphelios’s eyes. His gasps grew shorter and lighter, his thighs quaking as Sett’s cock hammered into his prostate. He was carving out space inside of him, molding him into the shape of his cock, ruining him for any other man. Aphelios was so overwhelmed that he began to cry, deep shuddering sobs wracking his body as he wept openly into Sett’s mouth. He mouthed his name against his lips over and over, like it was a prayer, an incantation, a spell to prevent him from ever leaving him. 

Sett was the first one to part from their kiss, with blood and saliva dripping down his chin. Aphelios fixed him with a watery glare before chasing after his mouth, but Sett dodged his lips. His focus was honed in on the other side of Aphelios’s neck, the expanse of smooth, tawny skin, taunting him with its unblemished perfection. Aphelios did not even have the time to redirect him before Sett was once again unhinging his bloodstained jaws, and sinking down into the sensitive junction between his neck and shoulder.  
  
As those wickedly sharp fangs pierced deep into his flesh for a second time, Aphelios’s body went rigid; his mind went blank. 

He screamed soundlessly, back arching, toes curling, world _shattering_ as his orgasm tore through him, taking both him and Sett by surprise. Sett snarled, his teeth sinking deeper into his neck as Aphelios clamped down on him like a vice. His cock painted Sett’s chest and stomach with white as bright red blood cascaded down his shoulders, narrowing into tiny rivers as it traversed the curves and planes of his lean back. His heart hammered in his ears, _boom, boom, boom_ , drowning out all other sound, all other irrelevant thoughts. Nothing else mattered now; the nucleus of his pleasure flowed out into his limbs, leaving behind a numb sense of peace where it cooled and settled. The edges of his vision began to fade, the world closing in…

...and the last thing Aphelios felt before succumbing was the powerful pulse of Sett’s cock as it emptied inside of him. 

* * *

It was the sensation of rough hands petting his hair that roused him. Aphelios’s eyes fluttered open, and when he did not immediately recognize his surroundings, he bolted upright, an action he would immediately regret. He was hit not only with a profound case of vertigo, but by the insistent throb of the deep bites on his neck, which almost instantly sent him flying back down.

“Easy Phel, easy!” Sett sounded surprisingly coherent as he rushed to steady Aphelios. Once his eyes focused, he noted the look of panic on Sett’s face, the worried tilt of his ears. “Shit, I’m so glad you woke up! You scared the piss out of me!” 

Aphelios sat in stunned silence for a while as Sett fretted over him, pressed his wrist up against his forehead, peered into his eyes, checked his pulse with two fingers. He noted that, while still nude, he had been pulled onto a futon, and covered with an expensive silk sheet. It was clear that at some point between his orgasm and now, he had fainted. 

As happy as Aphelios was to learn that Sett was concerned about him, he could think about only one thing: hadn’t he tied Sett up? How was he taking care of him like this? With sluggish fingers, Aphelios signed, ‘How did you…’

Sett looked sheepish, casting a guilty look over at the chair--or rather, what remained of it. The body of the chair laid sadly collapsed onto the floor, both the arms and the legs strewn across the room in splinters. Aphelios’s eyes widened in disbelief. That chair was sturdy, solid wood; the sheer force required to not only shred the Lunari spirit rope but rend the wood in the process was staggering.

“There was a _lot_ of blood, Phel,” he said. “I, uh, didn’t want to take any chances.” 

Aphelios was gobsmacked. He was aware that Sett’s fangs had pierced him quite deeply, and in an area as vascular as the neck it made sense that he had lost enough blood to lose consciousness, but to learn that Sett was so concerned about him that he had channeled such superhuman strength...  
  
He shook his head, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Sett lurched forward, fussing over Aphelios until he made it clear that he was laughing, not crying. ‘Was there even any point in tying you up?’ His eyes were alight with mirth, his lips curved into a genuine smile.  
  
Unfortunately, Aphelios’s smile did not get through to Sett. “I warned you,” he said, his ears drooping as he stroked his thumb gently over one of the bites on Aphelios’s neck. Aphelios noted that at some point during his unconsciousness, Sett had cleaned him up and dressed his wounds. “I told you I could hurt you, Phel.”

Aphelios sighed. He reached up to pat Sett’s arm reassuringly. ‘I know. It’s okay.’ A pause, and then, ‘I liked it.’ 

That seemed to be the key to snapping Sett out of his guilt. His ears perked right up, and a sly grin spread on his face. Sett looked so good when he was smiling.  
  
“Yeah?” He sounded boastful. “I could tell. You blew your load all over my abs.” Aphelios flushed scarlet. “Who could have known the mysterious moon man was such a freak in bed? You like being roughed up like that, huh? Like getting bitten with a fat cock in your--”

Aphelios slapped a palm over Sett’s mouth, his ears burning. Sett laughed, his usual cacophonous howl, and Aphelios was glad to know that he was apparently feeling well enough to make fun of him again. 

As soon as he was certain Sett would behave himself, he dropped his hand. ‘How long was I out?’ he asked.  
  
“Not very long,” Sett said, wiping his mouth. “Enough time for me to clean up our little murder scene and take care of those nasty bites.” With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Thankfully I keep a lot of good salves ‘n shit in this place. Stopped them bleeding right quick. They should heal up nicely.”  
  
Aphelios nodded and fought a blush. Sett taking care of him so nicely put a knot in his stomach and an ache in his chest.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘For dirtying your house.’

Sett barked another laugh. “It’s far from the first time I’ve had to clean blood out of this dump,” he said. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, mooncake.” 

Aphelios should not have felt so affected by such a thoughtless compliment. He fidgeted, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear. ‘Do you feel better?’

“Me?” Sett gawked, like he was in disbelief Aphelios would ask after him in his condition. Aphelios nodded. 

‘Is your head clearer? Do you still need to…’ 

“No,” Sett said hurriedly. “I mean, shit, not that I didn’t like it.” The words squeezed at Aphelios’s heart. “But my, y’know, _biological need_ has been met. I’m not gonna pounce on you again, don’t worry.”

Aphelios wished he would. 

He cleared his throat. Nodded. He had fulfilled his mission then. Sett was no longer suffering; he had sowed his seed, cooled his heat, cleared his head. Aphelios should have felt satisfied, knowing that he had not only completed his duties as ordered by his sister, but aided his friend in doing so--so why did he feel so sad? 

Aphelios did not want to think about it. He had overstayed his welcome here; he was becoming greedy. Insolent. Unbecoming of the devoted. He needed to leave and clear his head before he did something he regretted--or before Sett proved to him that the love he felt so passionately would never be requited.  
  
He did not know which outcome would be worse.  
  
‘Good,’ he said, despite himself. ‘Where are my things?’

“Your what?” Sett blinked. “Wait, Aphelios, you’re not thinking of leaving already, are you?” Aphelios tilted his head.  
  
‘Yes?’ Did he want him to stay? 

He wished that Sett would ask him to stay.  
  
“Phel, you lost a ton of blood,” he said. “Those weren’t fuckin’ play bites I gave you. It’s not safe yet, you gotta rest up. Besides, I--” Sett’s mouth snapped shut. Aphelios stared at him. Say it, he thought. Say you want me to stay.  
  
Whatever Sett intended to say seemed to die on his tongue. He sighed, rubbed his jaw, forced away the furrow of concern that had formed between his eyebrows. Aphelios’s heart hurt so badly he struggled to breathe.  
  
Why wouldn’t he say it?  
  
“I get it,” Sett said instead. “You gotta get back to your sister, right?”  
  
Aphelios considered it. Sett was giving him an out. Sett thought he did not want this. Aphelios kept his feelings so tightly concealed that there was no way someone as thick-headed as Sett would have been able to pick up on them; of course he thought this meant nothing to him. He probably thought Aphelios had only done this out of a sense of duty.  
  
Or, as was more likely, Sett was only being considerate by trying to keep him here. It was a consideration born out of guilt. Aphelios was as valuable an asset to Sett’s business as Sett was to his; it wouldn’t be convenient if harm came to Aphelios outside of his home as a consequence of Sett’s own actions.  
  
His thoughts swam. Anything to make this easier to bear.  
  
‘Yes,’ Aphelios said in the end. It wasn’t a lie. Alune needed him; Aphelios needed her. It hurt to say nonetheless. 

Sett nodded. Aphelios watched for any hint of his true emotions to shine through, the tilt of his ears, a flash in his eyes, the curl of his lip - but for once in Sett’s life, he remained stone-faced. Inscrutable. _Cold_ .  
  
“Right, right. Family first, I getcha. Well, you’re tough. I’m sure you’ve been through worse and still got up and walked away.” None of Sett’s usual bravado was in his voice. He got to his feet, collecting Aphelios’s clothes and satchel without so much as sparing him a glance. He handed them to him, keeping a painful distance.  
  
This was it, then. Sett had made the choice for him. 

“Here,” he said. “I stuffed the remains of those ropes in there, just in case...they looked pretty important.”  
  
They weren’t. They were only a tool, a means to an end. Much like himself.  
  
‘Thank you.’ 

It was a struggle to get to his feet; he was still rather weak. Once steady, Aphelios began to dress in silence. Sett did not look at him. He busied himself hauling the remains of his chair into an unused corner of the room, tossing it into a haphazard pile with more force than was necessary. Once Aphelios snapped his vambraces into place and wrapped his scarf loosely over his shoulders, he collected his satchel, pausing as he stole one last glance at Sett.  
  
Sett still refused to look at him. He had drifted over to his desk, rifling through the drawer looking for who knows what, the muscles in his back set with tension. It should have made things easier, for Sett not to beg him to stay, but instead it made the ache in his chest rival the screaming pain in his throat and the deep throb of the bites on his neck. Suddenly, Aphelios felt like he was drowning. 

Tears burned at his eyes, clawed at his throat. He couldn’t stay here any longer. Hiking his satchel over his shoulders, Aphelios turned to head down the stairs from the loft, swift and silent. It wasn’t until he had a hand on the front door that he heard another peep from Sett.

“Hey, Phel?”  
  
Sett called to him from the top of the stairs, his face just barely visible in the soft glow from the lantern. Aphelios whirled around, unable to keep the pitiful hopefulness off of his face. If Sett noticed it at all, he did not acknowledge it.  
  
“Take care of yourself, mooncake.”  
  
That ridiculous nickname did not used to hurt so badly to hear.

Aphelios smiled. It did not reach his eyes.

‘Goodbye, Boss.’ 

Aphelios shut the door behind him, and wondered if the night air had always felt this lonely.

* * *

Aphelios slept in a tavern that night, spending the last of his coin on a warm bed. He was exhausted, and sore in places he would rather not think about. His throat burned both inside and out. He took a hot bath, washing all traces of Sett off of his skin. It somehow hurt more than the bites on his neck.  
  
In bed, cheap linen sheets pulled up over his head, Aphelios cried. 

In the morning, he dug out the ampoule of noctum from his satchel. He had fulfilled his duty; it was time to return to his normal life. Return to his sister. Forget that he had ever tasted love.

Whether it was due to his abstention from the poison or the unprecedented abuse of his voice the night before, this dose was particularly agonizing. Aphelios dropped the ampoule, collapsing to his knees as it shattered into nothing. He retched, curling in on himself as the poison coiled down his throat like a snake. His knuckles turned ghost white as he clutched at the rug beneath his knees, tears stinging at his eyes as he choked on a miserable, pathetic sob.  
  
It felt like a punishment: for leaving his sister, for indulging in his own greed, for ever believing that he could be a person with hopes and dreams and a requited love, and not a stoic, single-minded weapon.  
  
And as quickly as it had begun, it was over.  
  
The agonizing sear faded into a dull, familiar burn. To any normal human, it would be unbearable, but such pain was a part of Aphelios now. He was awash with a new clarity, his corporeal body feeling numb, distant. His body was no longer his; he had once again become a vessel, as he had always been destined to be.

“ _Brother!_ ” Alune’s voice was bright, a beacon in the darkness of Aphelios’s heart. “ _Brother, I have missed you. How did your mission go? Did you find Sett? How is he?_ ”  
  
Aphelios wanted to say he had missed his sister, like she had missed him. He had not spent so much time apart from her since she had first ascended into the spiritual realm, before he discovered the noctum. He was sure, in an hour’s time, once the poison had a chance to fully settle in his blood, he would forget about all that had just happened with Sett, and would be glad to be in the company of his sister, his twin moon.  
  
But right now, he was angry. He was upset. He was _hurt_ .  
  
‘I found him,’ he said, coolly. He could project his thoughts to his sister; it had been so long since she had heard his actual voice. ‘I…helped him.’ Alune was silent, waiting for Aphelios to press on. When he did not, only begun to descend from the inn, she hummed a low note.  
  
“ _And?_ ” she encouraged, and if nothing else about this absurd situation had aroused Aphelios’s suspicions, her knowing sing-song did.  
  
Aphelios exited the tavern, shielding his eyes from the oppressive glare of the mid-morning sun. He did not belong here like this. Everything about this day was miserable. ‘Tell me the truth,’ he said, not bothering to conceal his petulance from Alune, ‘you sent me there knowing what was going to happen, didn’t you?’ Like Aphelios, Alune did not conceal her smile.  
  
“ _What makes you think that, brother?_ ”  
  
Aphelios scowled. If Alune wanted him to play this game with her, well, he was not a willing participant. He did not ask for this.  
  
‘Why did you play with me?’ he demanded. Rarely did Aphelios raise his voice; even with Alune, he was normally quiet; compliant. ‘If you know how I feel, why did you send me to him, when he needed someone to…’  
  
Aphelios could feel Alune’s surprise. She recoiled from him, as if struck. Guilt immediately weighed on Aphelios; had his selfishness truly reduced him to this? Lashing out at the only person who cared at him?  
  
But she deserved it! She had hurt him, and she deserved to know why!  
  
“ _Ah, please, brother! I did not mean to deceive you. I did it for you, you know,_ ” she said. When the thorns around Aphelios’s heart only coiled tighter, she sighed wistfully. “ _I sense your pain. I know it better than anyone else. I worry about you, Aphelios…_ ”  
  
Aphelios stopped in his tracks, bracing his hand against the tavern’s wooden sign. This he knew. Alune was the only one in this entire world who had the capacity to worry about him. She was the only one cared. 

“ _I know what he means to you_ ,” she pressed on. “ _I know how he makes you feel. You deserve happiness, brother; I want you to see that you are still human. You are not a weapon. You deserve love! I thought perhaps, if I could bring you two together, if only for an evening, you might…_ ”  
  
Aphelios couldn’t stand to hear anymore of this. ‘He does not need me,’ he said. He remained motionless just outside of the tavern, head bowed, fighting another wave of tears. His abstinence from the noctum had truly made him weak. 

“ _Oh, my dear brother…_ ” Aphelios could feel Alune curl around his heart, hold her cool hands to his cheeks, press an adoring kiss to his forehead. “ _But you need him. And I know that the Moon would not have brought him into your orbit if he did not need you, too_.”  
  
Aphelios braced himself against the sign, his knuckles turning white. He could feel Alune smile against his skin, her eyes curled into knowing crescents.  
  
“ _I promise_.”  
  
In all of Aphelios’s grief, he had forgotten that Alune was a seer. His reminder of this came not from losing himself once again to the noctum, or from immersing himself back into their mission, but from the unmistakable shout of his name from across the street.  
  
“Phel! Hey, Phel! Aphelios!”  
  
Aphelios whirled around, his eyes wet. There, running towards him with one hand outstretched in a wave, was Sett, clad in his normal flashy furs, looking as cocksure as ever. Aphelios stood there, dumbfounded, his legs cemented to the ground as Sett quickly closed the distance between them. 

“Shit, I’m glad I caught ya,” he panted. “Thought I’d be too late!” 

Aphelios was stunned. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked after just barely collecting his thoughts. ‘Did I forget something?’  
  
“Huh? Oh, no.” Sett rubbed his neck, felt the short hairs along his jaw. “I just thought maybe you might want to catch one last meal with me. Y’know, before you head off.” He coughed, a dusting of red rising to his cheeks. “Now that I got my head back on straight.”

Aphelios felt a lump form in his throat. Even with the noctum cooling in his veins, his thoughts buzzed in his mind. Emotions swirled in his heart. 

‘A...meal?’ Aphelios’s fingers were hesitant. What was this? He just wanted to have breakfast with him? Or maybe he…?  
  
“Yeah, y’know… there’s actually some stuff I wanna say to ya,” Sett said, sounding uncharacteristically sheepish. His ears twitched, in the way that Aphelios adored so much. His cheeks were unmistakably pink by now. “Didn’t really have the chance last night. If ya got time? I, uh, think I’d regret it if I sent you off without saying anythin’.”  
  
Aphelios nearly stopped breathing. Was it possible for Alune to will this into existence? Did she manipulate him, somehow? Had she set up a secondary connection with Sett just to conspire against him in private, after all? 

“ _You should go, brother_ ,” Alune said, breaking Aphelios out of his trance. “ _Go with him. We have time_.”  
  
 _Do you trust me, brother?_

Aphelios trusted Alune with the moon and the stars, the very blood that ran through his veins.

Perhaps he would put his faith in her one more time.  
  
‘Yes,’ Aphelios signed. The smile that graced his lips lit up his entire face. ‘What did you want to say to me?’

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!! \o/
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
